


Hold Me Close

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Star Trek, SuperTrek, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pon Farr, Rough Sex, Sappiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/N: Pon farr Destiel AU. In which Castiel is a half-Vulcan scientist, Dean is an engineer, and they’re best friends who are stationed aboard the USS Enterprise for her first five-year voyage. </p><p>Summary: An away mission going wrong. Getting stranded together on some deserted planet. Just another day in the lives of a couple of Starfleet officers, but when the Vulcan side of Cas suddenly makes itself know, he and Dean are put in a position that has the potential to either make or break them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Close

When Dean was twenty-nine years old, he finally got tired of living in his tiny little shit town, picking fights at the bar every night just because he was just that goddamn bored. He saw what happened to everyone there – saw how sad people got, when they hung around for too long – and when a flyer went up at the beer store, promising fame and glory and trips to the stars, Dean barely stayed long enough to say goodbye before he was hitch-hiking his way across the country. By the time he was enrolled in the engineering faculty of Starfleet Academy, thirty years old and the top of his class, he could safely say that – for the first time in his life – he was happy.

Then came year two, when a shared class between the engineering and science faculties changed his life. He had sauntered in on day one and sat himself down next to some gorgeous guy with dark hair and the most insane blue eyes Dean had ever seen, and when the guy simply looked at him in silence, Dean shot him the best grin he had – _please, for the love of everything, do not be straight, I might have to cry myself to sleep_ – and stuck out his hand, leaning in towards the guy and making everything about himself a flirtatious as he possibly could.

“The name’s Dean.”

The guy stared at him for a moment longer, just long enough for Dean to start second-guessing, and then he slid his hand into Dean’s, his fingers warm and soft against the skin of Dean’s palm, and Dean didn’t even bother to try to ignore the frisson of heat down his spine.

“Castiel.”

“And how’d you score that name?”

“My mother is a Vulcan.”

He glanced away as he said it, his hand sliding back out of Dean’s, and Dean ignored the sudden tug in his groin, the wave of warmth across his body, the way his brain was slamming him with vivid images, _I bet you’re a lot stronger than you look, then, could probably hold me up against a wall, christ._

“And?”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?”

Castiel just stared at him for a moment – and, clearly, his father’s genes had won out in the looks department, because with his pale skin and blue eyes and human ears, nobody would know that he had Vulcan blood just by looking at him – and then his lips turned up slightly at the edges, and his blue eyes softened in a way that seemed to make Dean’s lungs stop functioning. 

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t exactly the reaction he had been expecting – there was audible gratitude there, and Castiel was suddenly looking at him like he was something special, something precious – and Dean cleared his throat, ignoring the sudden twinge in his chest, the low sweeping sensation in his stomach, and seriously, _get yourself the fuck together, Winchester._

“No worries, man.”

He managed to paste on a smile, and if Castiel noticed the way his voice cracked, he had the kindness to not say anything. Instead, he simply stared at Dean for a moment longer, his eyes still soft and warm and another dozen sappy adjectives that Dean did not want his brain to be thinking, and then Castiel turned away to where the professor was taking her place behind the podium, and Dean took a second to close his eyes and just breathe. Unless he had a chance of getting Castiel into his bed and into his life, it was going to be a long and frustrating semester.

\- - -

After that, they gradually became best friends.

It took a while, of course. Dean finally gave up on flirting when it became clear that Castiel either didn’t get it or simply wasn’t interested, and after that Dean cared a lot less about making an ass of himself, or about holding back on some of the nastier chapters in his life history – and as soon as he began to give little bits of himself to Castiel, the half-Vulcan slowly did the same, telling him stories he had never shared with anyone else. Slowly, then, Castiel became Cas, and by the time he and Cas were assigned to the USS Enterprise, Cas had made it obvious that Dean was the only person he completely trusted, the only person he could truly be himself around, and Dean had long reached the point of admitting to himself that he was so in love with Cas it hurt. He had never said anything, of course – had buried it away somewhere deep inside him, and had opted instead for making an art form of serial dating – and, after several long years of clawing and scratching their way through the Academy, he and Cas had finally shot up into the stars together on the finest ship in the fleet, ready to take on whatever the universe threw at them. 

 

Three Years Later

Dean sees the cave roof start to crack mere seconds before Cas does, and by the time Cas is looking up, Dean is already ploughing into him, both of them hitting the ground, hard, even as a mountain of stone comes crashing down behind them, rattling Dean down to his very bones. For a moment, all he can do is shake, nothing inside him working right – and then something inside his chest clenches as Cas slides a hand up to rest it on Dean’s back, his fingers gentle as he draws them in slow circles, the tiny movements doing nothing to calm Dean’s breathing or slow his heartbeat. He’s not sure how long they lie there, but he’s still shaking by the time he convinces himself to slide off Cas’ body, and he has to kneel there for a second before he lets Cas pull him to his feet, bringing them face to face and leaving Dean struggling to bite back all the stupid shit his mouth wants to be staying.

“Thank you.”

Cas’ expression is more solemn that normal, his eyes fixed on Dean’s like he’s the only thing in the world, and Dean physically hurts from not leaning forward to kiss him. Instead, he swallows hard, manages a nod, and then fumbles for his belt – only to feel his stomach turn over as he gets his hand around a useless hunk of plastic, his communicator crushed from where he’d landed on it. Cas’ gaze goes to it, and then to the pile of rocks, and Dean fights the urge to grind his teeth.

“Your bag under that mountain?”

“Yes.”

“Communicator’s in it?”

“Yes.”

“Guess we’re going on an underground road trip.”

It’s not the most appealing thought, but the planet’s atmosphere will prevent the Enterprise from finding them, and when Cas gives him a look of veiled unhappiness, Dean has to lean down and pick up his backpack, needing to stop himself from reaching out to wrap his arms around him – and then his shoulder pulls the wrong way as he stands up, and he’s barely done wincing before Cas takes a step closer, eyes on his shoulder and his lips pressed tight together.

“You’re hurt.”

“Nothing serious.” 

“You are certain?” 

“Honestly –”

“You have a habit of minimalizing your own injuries.”

“Says the half-Vulcan who claims to not feel pain.”

Despite the circumstances, he can’t quite stop the fondness from sneaking into his voice, and Cas stares at him for a second before something softens in his eyes, and then he’s reaching into Dean’s bag to pull out his flashlight, and it takes everything Dean has to not lean backwards until he’s resting against Cas. The crashing sound of hundreds of tons of rock hitting the ground is still ringing in his ears, and as he watches Cas aim the flashlight down the dark tunnel in front of him, he almost has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep them from reaching out to touch.

“Dean.”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you. Again.” 

“Anything for my best buddy.”

Dean means it as something to lighten the mood, but with the darkness and the dim light and the stone walls pressed in close around them, the look that Cas gives him is one of obvious gratitude. It warms Dean from the inside out, and before he can fumble for words, Cas is walking forward into the dark tunnel, and Dean takes a breath as he hoists his bag higher on his back and turns to follow.

\- - -

“Well. This was stupid.”

“Dean –”

“No, Cas, shut up. You’re shaking.” 

“I will be fine.”

“Fucking tunnels. Why the fuck can’t there be warm goddamn tunnels for once?”

_“Dean –”_

“Here, just – hang on a sec, alright?”

The flashlight – their only light in this dark, damp, miserable tunnel – comes to a stop, and Dean rips open his bag, finding the extra sweater he had stashed inside. He reaches out in the dark until he makes contact with Cas, and Cas doesn’t say a word as Dean takes the flashlight and sticks it between his knees, pointing it towards Cas and giving them both just enough light to see by.

“Here.”

“Dean?”

“Just – c’mere, a sec.”

Cas moves a bit closer to him, and while normally Dean would be fighting to keep his libido in check, there’s nothing sexy about the way that Cas’ teeth are chattering. When Dean presses the sweater into Cas’ hands, he doesn’t get a word of argument, and by the time Dean’s sweater has been pulled over his head, Dean is setting the flashlight on the ground and placing his hands on Cas’ arms, rubbing them up and down in an effort to get some of that Vulcan blood moving. 

“Bit warmer?”

Cas doesn’t say a word – just leans in closer to him, until Dean can feel his breath on his cheek – and then Cas catches hold of one of his hands, taking a step closer as he laces their fingers tight together, and Dean goes so still it almost hurts, his heart leaping up into his throat.

“Cas?”

His voice is an octave higher than he’d like it to be, his entire body suddenly flashing red hot, and there’s a moment of silence before Cas lets go of his hand and steps away, putting some distance between them and leaving Dean struggling to breathe through his ridiculous heartbeat.

“Thank you for the sweater. We should continue.”

“Hey, what –”

But Cas is already picking up the flashlight again, and Dean wavers in place for a second – _get yourself under control, goddammit_ – before he sucks in a breath and hoists his bag back up onto his back, trying to ignore the way his hand can still feel the phantom press of Cas’ cold fingers.

\- - -

“You think we’re close, then?”

“H-hopefully. If I – I remember correctly, t-there is an exit less than two m-miles ahead.”

Cas’ voice is shaking, his teeth still knocking together, and Dean silently curses the damn tunnel around them for just getting colder and colder, with some chilling dampness thrown into the mix. This is most definitely one instance where Cas’ mixture of Vulcan and Human genetics aren’t doing him any favours, since the Vulcan side of things seems to have won out where his ability to handle cold temperatures is concerned.

“Dammit, Cas.”

“I’ll b-be fine.”

“Just, hold on a sec, let me – you can have my top layer, alright?”

_“Dean –”_

Dean reaches out to put a gentle hand on Cas’ elbow, just barely visible by the dim flashlight – and Cas pulls away so sharply he stumbles, tripping sideways into the dark. Dean barely has time to breathe through the hurt before there’s a cracking sound, followed by a yell and a splash, and the cave around him goes completely dark.

It’s like Dean’s heart has stopped beating.

“Cas!”

A wave of panic, his lungs tightening up, and Dean’s down on his hand and knees, crawling in the direction Cas had stumbled in – and he nearly pitches into the hole in the ground, his hands flailing in midair for a second before he yanks himself backwards, scrabbling at the rocky edge as he leans over as far as he can, and _he can’t see a goddamn fucking thing, jesus christ._

“Cas, can you hear me?”

Nothing – not even the splash of water – and Dean’s eyes are burning as he scrambles around and fumbles for his backpack, yanking out his rope and clawing blindly at the wall until he finds an outcropping. By the time he’s got it tied on, he’s not breathing, and he goes in feet first with the rope in his hand, hitting the cold water and already feeling around before he even gets back to the surface. He has about five seconds of utter hopelessness before he makes contact, and then he’s letting the rope dangle above him as he gets his arms around Cas’ body and pulls him tight against his own, feet barely scraping the bottom as he tries to brace them against the wall.

“God – fucking – dammit –”

He’s still crying as he gets his hand on Cas’ chest, _come on, Cas, please, please be breathing, I need you to breathe_ – and even as his fingers scrabble across the damp material, Cas makes a low moaning sound right next to his ear, and the relief is enough to bring a new wave of tears. He doesn’t ask for details – just yanks the rope down as far as it will go, and ties it around Cas’ limp body, fumbling slightly in the damp and darkness – and then he pauses, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Dean.”

The word is barely a whisper, low and rough and hardly audible even with Cas’ head resting on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean swallows hard around the ache in his chest, presses his lips against Cas’ freezing cheek before he tightens his grip around him and tries to brace them a bit harder against the wall.

“We’re getting out of here, Cas. Alright? You hear me? We are getting out.”

When there’s no response, Dean very deliberately blinks away the tears and gives Cas a shake.

“Hey. Not an option. I can’t get you out of here on my own.”

“Dean.”

“Yes, dammit. Now open your fucking eyes and hold on to this rope, alright?”

There’s nothing for a moment, and then Cas moves a bit in his arms, and Dean guides his hand to the rope above them, curling Cas’ hands around it and not letting go until he feels them tighten.

“Good. You stand on my damn shoulders, and while I push up, you pull yourself out. Got it?”

He can feel Cas nod, and then Dean sucks in a deep breath and goes under, maneuvering until he can feel Cas’ legs – and then Cas is standing on his shoulders, _moving by himself, thank god,_ and Dean pushes up as hard as he can, trying to keep the oxygen in his lungs until his head breaks water again. He can hear Cas scrabbling somewhere above him, can feel him slowly getting a bit lighter, and then Cas is gone and Dean leans his head against the stone wall, breathing hard and tasting blood in his throat.

“Toss me the rope.”

It hits him on the damn head, but he can’t really bring himself to care, not when it means a way out of this hole. By the time he’s pulled himself up, half climbing and half crawling up the wall, his knuckles are bleeding hot against his own hands, and Cas is shaking as he pulls Dean away from the edge and wraps himself tight around him, Dean’s face pressed in against his neck.

“Sorry, I’m so –”

“Hey, shh, it’s fine, just –”

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to –”

“Hey, shut up, alright? Save your breath.”

Cas nods against him, pulls him in even closer, and Dean never ever wants to move again, wants to just stay here with his arms around Cas, keep him close forever, but they’re both soaked, and they need to get out of this motherfucking cave, even if the relief inside him is still stealing all his air away. 

“What hurts?”

“Head.”

Dean swallows hard against a nauseating flash of panic, and then he’s sliding Cas’ arm over his shoulder and using the other hand to lug up his bag and sling it onto his back, trying not to topple under the combined weight of Cas and his bag.

“Two miles, you said? Then we’d best start walking.”

“Dean –”

“Save your breath, okay?”

Cas stops talking without a word of argument, and Dean gets them upright and moving forward, holding on tight to Cas and supporting whatever weight Cas needs to put on him, the light from the flashlight wavering in front of them as they stumble down the cold tunnel.

\- - -

“Oh, god, but isn’t that gorgeous.”

They’re sheltered inside a small rock overhang close to the cave exit, and the two moons above them are so bright it might as well be daytime, but Cas’ only reaction is to pull away from Dean, his eyes blank as he wraps his arms around himself and stares at nothing. Dean watches him for a second, something inside him pulling too tight, and then he’s stripping off his sweater, leaving him in his black undershirt as he rips over his bag and pulls out his pair of spare pants.

“Get these on, alright? I’m gonna find some firewood.”

When there’s no response, Dean puts the clothes down beside Cas and turns away, ignoring the way it’s getting harder to fight the panic. It doesn’t take long to find enough sticks for a fire – his only weapon is his phaser, and that’s not exactly suited for turning tree branches into larger logs – and by the time he’s back at their campsite, Cas is sitting on a boulder, still wearing his wet clothes, with his head hanging low and his eyes fixed on the ground. Dean stares for a second, swallows around the fear, and then pulls the lighter from his bag and creates as much of a fire as he can, before he pulls out his one sleeping bag and lays it out close to the fire.

“C’mon, Cas. Out of those clothes, and then I want to take a look at your head.”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, man –”

“I said I’m fine!”

And that is… something that has never happened before. Cas, yelling. Cas yelling at _him_ , in particular, and Dean would be hurt if he wasn’t suddenly so fucking terrified. Dropping his bag, he kneels down in front of Cas and then waits, shaking, until it becomes too much and he takes hold of Cas’ hands, not missing the shudder that racks across his body, the way it looks like just lifting his head seems to take monumental effort. 

“Dean.”

Cas’ voice is wrecked, his skin flushed and his eyes blown wide, and – christ. Cas looks – wild. Frantic, even. His skin has more colour than Dean has ever seen, his customary composure is gone – and other than the bruise and blood on his temple, there’s absolutely nothing to explain what’s going on, and Dean tries to shove away thoughts of every horrible space virus he’s ever heard about.

“Talk to me.”

“I need you to leave.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

_“Dean –”_

“For christ’s sake, Cas, just –”

Cas kisses him.

For a second, the universe stops turning. Then, it’s like getting punched in the chest, and Dean has barely managed to start breathing again – his skin flushing across his entire body, his heart leaping out through his ribcage – when Cas is pulling away, yanking Dean’s phaser out of his belt, and pointing it square at him as he stands there shaking, leaving Dean’s world turning inside out as he kneels there and stares up at Cas, everything inside him suddenly not functioning right.

“Get away from me.”

There are tears in Cas’ eyes. Actual goddamn tears. And Dean can’t think beyond the pounding in his temples, has only the barest idea of what the fuck might be happening, but he knows one thing with certainty.

“You won’t shoot me.”

The last thing he sees is Cas’ face twisting with pain before the world goes dark.

\- - -

When Dean comes to again, he’s alone.

The fire is still going, flickering weakly, and his fingers are wrapped around his phaser, and even though Dean knows there are no long-term effects from a stun setting, it doesn’t make everything inside him hurt any less. By the time he’s up on his hands and knees, the world is less blurry, and he makes his legs work until he’s able to stand, his eyes scanning the area around him, rocks and trees just barely visible in the moonlight.

“Jesus christ, Cas.”

His only answer is silence, and he firmly shoves the fear away long enough to put out the fire and pack his bag. His spare clothes and his medical kit are gone, but everything else is in place, and he’s still shaking from far too many different emotions as he heads off in the direction the ground is telling him to go. He and Cas might both might have received the same training, but Dean spent years hunting with his father, and there’s no damn way he’s gonna let Cas get away.

_Get away from me._

The memory feels like nails across his skin, and Dean grits his teeth as he kneels down to study the sand at his feet, looking for the tiny trace marks that will tell him which way to go.

“Not a chance, buddy. You don’t get to kiss me and shoot me and then just fucking bail.”

Saying the words out loud brings it all home, and Dean pushes down the flush of heat at the memory of Cas’ lips on his own. This is – well. Dean’s not stupid, and with a half-Vulcan best friend, he’s done his homework. And while he might not be a genius like Cas, he can still put the clues together, and if Cas has gone into heat with nobody else around but Dean, then Dean has no idea what he’s supposed to be feeling right now, beyond fucking terrified.

All he knows is that, one way or another, Cas needs help. And that means that Dean needs to find him. 

\- - -

In the end, it’s surprisingly easy to find Cas, and Dean can only attribute that to the fact that Cas is probably fighting for basic coherency at this point. 

He’s sitting beside a fire, just inside the entrance to a small cave, naked, his back straight, his eyes closed, and his hands resting on his knees where his legs are folded underneath him. The blood has been cleaned away from his temple, and his entire damn body is sheened with sweat, the light from his fire painted across his skin, streaks of sweat sliding down the curves of his chest and across the lines of his shoulders and down the skin of his stomach, and Dean breathes through the sharp tug in his groin, _jesus fucking christ_ , in favour of pulling out his phaser and moving as quietly as he can towards the fire.

“Should have covered your tracks better.”

Dean’s legs are barely holding him up, and his voice sounds wrecked – but it’s nothing to the look of devastation on Cas’ face when his eyes snap open to meet Dean’s across the fire. Dean gives it a few seconds, and then he takes a step closer and crouches down a safe distance from Cas, the phaser never once wavering from its spot on Cas’ chest.

“I’m not above knocking you out until you tell me what the fuck’s going on.”

_“Dean.”_

“Talk to me.”

“You – no, you can’t – you need to leave.”

“I’m not –”

_“Please.”_

It’s a word he’s never heard from Cas before, and Dean can feel his stomach twist at the visible desperation in Cas’ eyes, the way that Cas is strung so tight he’s almost vibrating, the way his fingers are pressing dents into his own legs, as though he’s just barely stopping himself from leaping across the fire and onto Dean. And Dean knows what he’s about to offer here – knows that having sex with his best friend to fulfill some kind of biological imperative could wreck everything between them – but if the alternative is watching Cas die, then, well – that’s not an alternative at all.

“You know, if you really wanted to jump me that badly, you could have just told me.”

It’s the best he has, the only way he knows to lead into this, and his lungs stop working right when Cas goes still and stares at him. It strikes Dean, suddenly, that for all that Cas looks like a human, there is a side to him that is very much alien, a side to him that is fundamentally different from Dean’s genetic code, and with Cas watching him like he can see into his soul, like he’s fighting with every bit of himself to not lay Dean out and make a home for himself inside his body, Dean has to swallow around the sudden nervousness, takes a second to get his voice back. 

“What was the plan, Cas? To hide away until your fever killed you?”

“Better than forcing myself on you.”

The words sound torn out of him, and there are tears in his eyes again, and Dean has no idea what would be worse – to tell Cas that he’s wanted him for years, or to let Cas think that he’s making Dean do this against his will. Either way, it’s going to be the end of their friendship, and Dean bites back the itch in his throat, curses everything to do with Vulcan biology.

“You wouldn’t be. I –” _want this, you have no idea how badly I_ – “– I’m saying yes, alright?”

“This will kill me. You – you can’t consent – you don’t want –”

_I do want to. I do I do I do –_

He doesn’t recognize the noise he makes, and he moves – has to move, or he’s going to start spilling the truth. Drops the phaser, crosses around the fire, and hits his knees in front of Cas, his hands gripping tight to Cas’ and his traitorous dick twitching at the hiss that slips between Cas’ lips, his breath already coming in pants and his eyes blowing even brighter and wider in his face.

“Cas, I – I can’t lose you, alright? I’ll, christ, I’ll fucking beg you if I have to, just let me help –”

The world spins and he only realizes he’s on his back when he gets there, Cas on top of him. His hands are iron around Dean’s wrists, pinning his arms above his head, and he’s rock hard against Dean’s thigh, rubbing against him as he bites at Dean’s lips, and the wave of heat across Dean’s mind leaves him so turned on it hurts. For a moment, there’s nothing but need, so much lust he could drown in it, and then he tastes salt, realizing that Cas is crying, and christ, this is so, so, so very wrong, this _cannot_ happen like this, Cas needs to know the truth, and Dean yanks his mouth free, gasping for air. 

_“Fuck._ Cas. Look at me.”

Cas shakes his head, bites down hard against his collarbone, and Dean is barely finished yelling before Cas’ teeth are sharp on his neck, scraping across his skin, his tears warm and wet, and Dean can’t breathe, can’t think, but _Cas needs to know this,_ needs to know that – that Dean – 

“I – _christ,_ Cas. I want this, okay? I’m not – I’ve wanted you for fucking years, alright, so just –”

Dean doesn’t realize what’s happened until he’s landing hard on his hands and knees, rocks cutting into the skin of his palms, and Cas is draped over him, pressed full length against him, his breath harsh against Dean’s ear as he tightens his grip around Dean’s body to the point of pain.

“Do not lie to me. Not about this.”

The words crack around the edges, and Dean’s protest is strangled when Cas yanks Dean’s shirt up at the bottom, bites his way up the entire length of his spine until Dean is bucking so hard the only thing keeping him in place is Cas. There’s a ripping sound, then, and Dean’s shirt slides off him in pieces, and the world whites out with heat for a second, but Cas is yanking his pants down and _this is fucking important –_

He doesn’t realize he’s craned his head around to bite Cas’ arm until he’s flat on his back with a yelp, his pants around his knees and Cas straddling his hips, his hands tight against his shoulders – but the expression on Cas’ face is completely at odds with the rough way he’s handling him, and since Dean can’t kiss him he settles for digging his fingers into Cas’ hipbones and pressing in as hard as he can, because _Cas needs to know this._

“I’m not lying.”

It’s a lot harder to say when he can see Cas’ face, and when Cas just stares down at him, his skin flushed and lips pressed together and his eyes wide and damp, Dean squeezes his own eyes shut and tilts his head sideways, gets his cheek as close as he can to Cas’ fingers, such a bad idea, but he doesn’t seem to have a choice.

“Read my damn mind, then, if you don’t believe me.”

For a moment, there’s nothing. Then, Cas shudders on top of him and buries his face into Dean’s neck, and Dean stops breathing when Cas wraps his arms around him and pulls him in so tight there’s not an inch of space left between them, his entire body shaking and his breath coming ragged against the skin of Dean’s neck. 

“Cas?”

And then Cas is kissing him, kissing him so hard it’s like he wants to crawl inside, and Cas’ hands are cradling his cheeks, the touch oh so gentle and completely different from the harsh touches of before, and Dean’s eyes are prickling with tears and what the fuck is going on?

_“Dean.”_

It’s a harsh breath against his mouth, and then Cas pulls back to stare at him, and Dean can only stare back, because that looks like happiness, somehow, hidden in amongst the desperate need still written across Cas’ face, and all the air inside him seems to have gotten stuck in his lungs.

“You’re… not angry?”

Cas is almost vibrating on top of him, and Dean doesn’t know what it’s costing him to not move, but Cas somehow stays still long enough to shake his head, the movement sharp and frantic, and then his hand comes down to rest over the frantic beat of Dean’s heart. For a moment long, they just stare at each other – and then Dean swallows hard because Cas is biting his lip, vulnerability twisting across his face even as he trails his hand down Dean’s stomach, curling his fingers into the hair right above where Dean wants him to touch. 

“The only reason I’m angry is that I never imagined our first sexual encounter to be like this.”

Every word sounds bitten out, sounds like it’s taking everything Cas has to speak, and Dean’s eyes are burning again but _who the fuck cares_ , because that is _everything_ Dean needs to know, right there, and if he wants to fucking cry when the guy he’s been in love with for years says something like that, he’s damn well allowed to cry as much as he fucking please – and he doesn’t know what kind of noise he makes, but it must get the point across, because Cas is kissing him again, absolutely frantic, and Dean barely manages to speak against his mouth, somehow gets the words out.

“So here’s the plan, then. You’re – _jesus._ You’re gonna fuck me, Cas – alright? You’re gonna take whatever you need, you’re gonna fuck me however you need to, and believe me, I want it.”

Cas groans against him, holds him tighter as his hand slides back down to press into Dean’s pubic hair, heat swooping low through his body, and Dean can’t stop the hiss, bucks up against Cas as every bit of him catches fire, his dick jumping and his body twitching under a new wave of need.

_“Dean –”_

“And then – _christ._ Later, Cas – we’ll have sex on your terms, alright? Wherever and however you want it. You’ll be calling the shots. Anything you want, you can have me however you –”

He’s on his knees again, Cas flipping him over and shoving him forward, and Dean has barely finished groaning before there’s a hand around his dick, dry and hot and not exactly comfortable, but Dean grits his teeth and bucks into it, feels like he’s been punched in the gut as Cas tightens his grip and twists up the length of him, leaving Dean shaking as his knees threaten to give out – and then the hand is gone, and there’s a spike of pain as Cas shoves a finger into the tight clench of his asshole, just the tip forcing its way inside, and _motherfucker_ , Dean still wants this so much his teeth nearly hurt with it.

“Spit – gimme something, c’mon –”

Dean doesn’t realize what’s happening until Cas is gone, and Dean has barely twisted to look for him before the med kit hits the ground beside him, and a slick finger shoves inside and leaves him shouting as Cas lays himself down on top of him and holds him in place, keeping him there as his finger burns through Dean in a way that should not feel as fucking good as it does. He’s barely begun to babble for more when that finger crooks, rubbing across his prostate, and he only realizes that whimper is coming from him when Cas’ mouth presses against his ear.

“Mine.”

And oh, christ. It’s animalistic, sounds like it’s been torn from Cas’ throat, makes Dean’s dick jump and his chest pull tight, and he’s barely begun to process the reality of what they’re doing when that finger moves, rubbing slow and soft against his insides as a second one slowly slides in to join, and all he can do is dig his nails into the ground and grind his teeth together as Cas starts to open him up, muscles aching and burning and every touch against his prostate sending a sharp wave of blind fucking _need_ through him. By the time Cas is up to three fingers, pressed deep and unrelenting inside him as Cas bites and licks his way across his back, Cas is muttering Dean’s name like it’s the only thing he remembers, and Dean is so turned on he can barely see anymore.

“Cas –”

He doesn’t even get the chance to beg before Cas’ fingers are gone, and his dick is pressed hot against the entrance to Dean’s body, and Dean has just braced himself when the touch is gone, and Dean doesn’t even voice his protest before he’s on his back, and god. Cas is so far gone, so visibly rattled and out of control, mouth hanging open and his fingernails sharp against his skin as he hauls Dean’s legs up around his waist, holds him in place like he weighs nothing as Dean digs his feet into Cas’ lower back, and – yeah. That works. Face to face is good. Dean might well die from the mere thought of it.

“Tell me if I – I don’t want to –”

Voice barely there, eyes blow wide and wild, in the grip of some primal mating drive, and Cas is still worried about hurting him. Dean hadn’t known it was possible to fall even more in love with the guy.

“Don’t mind a bit of pain.”

He sounds about as bad as Cas, and then he has to force his eyes to stay open as Cas presses in, slick and slow but so fucking relentless, and _fuck,_ it’s been years, years stacked on years – but then Cas makes a noise that’s easily the best thing Dean’s ever heard, and by the time Cas is all the way deep inside him, leaving him clawing lines into Cas’ skin, Dean’s still hard against his stomach, and Cas is just staring at him, mouth open, and Dean can barely breathe with how badly he needs Cas to fucking _move._

_“Cas –”_

He’d be embarrassed by his own voice if not for the wrecked noise that Cas answers with, and then Cas pulls him in closer, his dick pressing even deeper inside him as his mouth comes down against Dean’s, and – jesus. Cas isn’t even kissing him, just breathing into his mouth, sharp and desperate sounding, chest heaving against him, and Dean makes his hands as gentle as they can be, slides them shaky along the sweaty lines of Cas’ back as he rasps for air against Cas’ mouth.

“Hey, s’alright. You’ve got me, Cas, I’m not going –”

Cas’ only response is a roll of his hips, sharp and bright and hard inside him, and Dean’s voice just fucking breaks, leaves a low groan in its place, sounds like it’s been torn out of him. It hurts, Cas fucking him open as he pins him down, hard, against the sharp rocks and dirt underneath his back, but Dean can’t even care. Can’t focus on anything but Cas’ shaky breathing, hot and fast against this mouth – and then Cas tightens his grip and drives in harder, fits and starts of finding a rhythm, and Dean just holds on as tight as he can and lets Cas have him. This might not be how he’d imagined this – might have imagined something slower, something maybe even involving a bed – but it’s _Cas,_ and if their first time is gonna here in the dirt on some deserted planet, trapped in a cave with Cas painted in sweat and firelight and his voice punching out little gasps of Dean’s name, then Dean is damn well gonna take this moment and cling to it and never ever let it go. It’s more than he ever thought he get, and he’s not alone in this, and Cas wants him, too, for more than just this one time, and _god,_ he needs to stop thinking and just fucking let Cas fuck him until Cas is better again and Dean can curl up around him and hold on to him and never let him go.

The thought has barely flashed across his mind, fuzzy through the waves of pleasure and the crackles of pain, before Cas’ dick brushes across his prostate, and Dean’s cock jerks, his voice coming out as some kind of wrecked gurgle, and Cas grunts something and licks his way into his mouth, and fuck, Dean is gone. So very fucking gone. Can’t do anything but claw at Cas’ back, his mind whiting over as everything starts to go hazy, Cas fucking him into the dirt, pulling him in closer and closer every time Dean groans, the cave and the fire fading until there’s nothing but Cas’ dick inside him, and his voice, _Dean, Dean, Dean_ , sounding like it’s been punched out of him, and christ, and Dean never wants to stop, wants to do this every day until he dies.

He’s not sure how much time passes, can’t keep track of anything, but by the time Cas is coming inside him, it’s all Dean needs to push him over the edge, his hand tight around his own dick and Cas gasping his name as he shakes against him and bites bruises into every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Dean comes down groaning, his limbs going limp as Cas drops his legs to the ground and collapses on top of him, nails still digging into his skin where he’s holding on tight – and then there’s nothing but the sound of them panting, and Dean slides his shaky arms around Cas and just holds on. Clings to the slippery slide of him, soaking wet with sweat, dick softening inside him, breath hot against his neck, and when Cas stirs enough to pull out his body, a flash of pain that makes Dean bite out a grunt, Dean tightens his grip to keep Cas from going any further. It makes Cas go still above him, tension flooding back into the body pressed against his, and then Cas lifts his head to meet Dean’s eyes, the action so visibly hesitant it hurts to watch, and Dean slides a hand, slow and soft, down the skin of Cas’ back, tries to sooth away some of the guilt he can read in every inch of Cas’ face. Gives it a second before he curls a hand around the back of Cas’ head, slides his fingers into his hair as he applies light pressure, and Cas swallows, hard, before he makes a hurt little sound and lets Dean pull him down for a kiss, and Dean knows they’re going to have to talk about all of this, but, for now, he just wants to not move for a while.

\- - -

Three Days Later

Three days after they get back to the Enterprise, Dean has reached the point of getting sick of Cas avoiding him. 

They had been found less than six hours after Cas had fucked him senseless in that cave – just long enough for them to find a stream to clean up in, and for Cas to start getting this haunted look that made Dean want to punch things – and as soon as they’d gotten back to the ship, Cas had made himself scarce in a way that made it perfectly clear that he wanted to be alone. And it’s not that Dean can’t be patient, when he has to be – and lord knows Cas is working through some complicated shit right now – but after three days of letting Cas wallow in his solitary and misery, Dean finds himself pressing the buzzer outside Cas’ quarters, something inside him squirming unpleasantly at the longer than normal pause before Cas’ voice comes through the intercom. 

“Yes?”

“Let me in, Cas.”

The pause that follows is even longer, and Dean swallows hard, breathes through the sudden wash of nerves. He’s just straightening out the bottom of his red shirt when the door buzzes, and he presses the button to open it, stepping into a room that feels like it could pass for a sauna, and – there Cas is, seated at his desk, looking every inch the well-put together science officer, his clothing pristine and his expression completely blank. The sight hits Dean like a punch, at first, but he knows Cas better than anyone – can see the fear in his eyes, despite whatever Cas might be doing to hide it – and Dean carefully takes a step forward and sits himself down against the corner of the desk, something inside him hurting when Cas meets his eyes for less than a second before he swallows hard and looks away, and god. The difference between this Cas and the feral Vulcan in that cave could not be more immense, and yet – Dean was there. He has the bruises and scratches to prove that it all happened. And there’s no way he’s letting this break them apart, no matter what kind of guilt Cas might be feeling right now. The thought of losing Cas is enough to make it hard to speak, and he takes a second before he very, very slowly reaches out to put his fingers under Cas’ chin, knowing that Cas could push him away as easy as blinking if he wanted to. Waits a second and then presses upward, slightly, until Cas has to lift his head to look at him, and Dean aims for what he hopes is his most reassuring look, no matter how much it hurts to see Cas look so unsure of himself.

“You gonna stop avoiding me?”

_“Dean –”_

“And if you meant it about having imagined us before, then I’d really like to kiss you again.”

Cas makes a noise that sounds hurt, his eyes sliding shut, and Dean just waits, his heart pounding so hard it almost hurts. He’s waited years to be here, and he can make himself wait a bit longer. Can give Cas the time he needs to work this out. Gives it five seconds, then ten, lets them sit in silence, hopes that what he’s saying is actually going to make it through that thick Vulcan skull – and then Cas raises a hand and presses it against Dean’s, his eyes sliding open in a way that makes Dean feel pinned to the desk.

“You – you already are.”

“I’m what?”

“Vulcans – we – fingertips. We show affection with our fingertips.”

“You’re saying I’m kissing you if I do this?”

His voice is steady, but inside him it feels like he’s sprouted wings, because Cas _isn’t running away from him_ – and when he slides his fingers, slow and cautious, along the curve of Cas’ chin, brings them up to brush across his lips, Cas shudders and reaches up to clutch hard at his wrist, his eyes never once leaving Dean’s, doing that thing where it’s like he can see straight through to Dean’s soul, and – christ. Dean knows that they need to talk. Knows that Cas is going to need to work through his guilt, and that Dean is going to have to spend a long time convincing Cas that he was a very willing participant in everything that happened – but, for now, he’s going to keep it simple. He’s got his best friend – the guy he’s been in love with for years – shivering from a simple touch, and he’s got the memory of _The only reason I’m angry is that I never imagined our first sexual encounter to be like this_ running circles in in his mind, and he’s gonna make damn sure that Cas knows that Dean is his, for as long as Cas wants him.

“You’ve got me, Cas. There’s nothing to forgive, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean isn’t sure how he even gets it out – with Cas’ eyes fixed on him like that, it’s a wonder he’s able to think at all – but he somehow makes the words happen, and Cas stares at him for a moment longer before he closes his eyes and nods, jerkily, still holding on tight to Dean’s wrist, and his lips pressed together in a way that looks almost pained. And while this may not be Cas forgiving himself, it’s obvious that something, at least, is starting to get through, and when Dean slowly pulls Cas up on to his feet, carefully pulls him in close until Cas ends up wrapped tight around him, holding him close and digging his fingers tight into Dean's back, it’s easily the single best moment of Dean’s entire life, and all Dean can do is hold Cas close and cling to the feeling of Cas’ heart beating against his own.


End file.
